


A Life to Love

by neeeeeeeeep



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dean Winchester/Female Reader, F/M, Flirting, Gen, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neeeeeeeeep/pseuds/neeeeeeeeep
Summary: You are a hunter. A good hunter, skilled in all aspects of your job and you loved what you did. But, that was all you did. Work, work and more work. And it’s only when the Winchesters walk into your life that makes you realise that life… well, there’s more to life than just the job.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 21
Kudos: 41





	1. Broken Like Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Welcome to my new fic!
> 
> I've recently been binging the hell out of Supernatural again (I used to watch it years ago but life got in the way and I couldn't find time for it anymore) but I'm now nearly caught up in time for the end season! I've been loving my bb Dean even more this time round and ofc the thirsty nerd in me insisted that I delve into the life of Dean/Reader fics, so here we are
> 
> In all honesty, I'm awful at updating, i'm awful at being consistent and in all fairness I may well write so much of this and then let it die (because i'm a piece of turd that sometimes can't find motivation to continue big projects) but we'll see how things go! leave me lots of comments and the chapters will keep comin' ;)
> 
> lemma know what ya think!

“Fuck!” you exclaimed as you were thrown backwards into a glass cabinet, your back overwhelmed by a burning sensation as you realise, you’d probably been impaled by shards of glass. But your adrenaline overrode that almost instantly, throwing your body to the side in time to dodge an incoming attack by a pissed-off spirit charging you at full speed. It disappeared into the cabinet and through the walls, its screams fading as it vanished into another room.

It gave you time to breathe; rethink your next move and regain control of the situation. You’d dropped your salt shotgun a few rooms back amidst the fight, but you spotted an iron rod sitting conveniently by the fireplace. You rushed over to it and scoop it from its holder, just in time for the recognisable screech returned from behind.

You swivelled around on your heels in time to swat it away with the rod, letting out a laboured groan as the twinge in your back shot pain through your body. The spirit vanished again which gave you enough time to run to its bones, in which you’d discovered buried under the floorboard’s minutes before the vengeful spirit’s first attack.

You ran to the spot and started pulling up the boards quickly, carelessly, trying to free the corpse as much as you could so you could salt the whole body and proceeded to pour gasoline over the whole thing. You were just about to light a match when you were shoved from your feet, sending you five feet across the room and crashing down onto the living room table – again, made of glass, which you’re sure just added to the collection currently wedged into your entire body at that point.

“Jesus Christ, would you fucking quit it?! Trying put your body to rest here, you fucking psycho!” you hissed in frustration, trying to pull yourself up from the ground. Your body was weak and your heart was pumping with adrenaline, making it hard to focus on anything but getting back, which is why you failed to acknowledge the large shard of glass on the ground where you placed your hand to push yourself up with, and hissed as it slid over your flesh, slitting it open, letting the spirit gain a huge advantage over you while you watch blood drip from your skin, pooling on the floor.

It towered over you as it moved above you, pressing its hand against your chest, pushing down until disappeared through your rib cage and you felt its icy grip on your heart, literally squeezing the life out of you. _This is it, I guess_ , you thought to yourself as you felt yourself starting to drift away, _bested by a piece of fucking glass._ _Goodbye, cruel world, it’s been fucking shi—_

Just like that, the spirit exploded in flames right in front of you, its shrieks filling the whole house as it disintegrated before your eyes. You don’t know what just happened, but you let out a sigh of relief knowing that the thing was finally fucking dead.

But then you realised – _what killed it?_

You sat up quickly and, in a swift manoeuvre, grabbed your pistol from your back pocket, pointing it at the direction of where the corpse had been. Two men stood before you, their hands shooting straight in the air defensively and their faces startled by your sudden aggression.

“Woah, woah, wait! We’re here to help,” said the taller man, a reassuring yet slightly uneasy expression on his face.

“Uh, yeah – we just saved your damned life! You’d be dead if we didn’t get here in time to burn that son-of-a-bitch spirit,” chimed in the shorter man, looking at you like you’re some sort of psycho.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” you demanded, still defensively holding your gun up at them, even though you’d be dead if they really wanted to kill you considering you were still wedged in the remains of a shattered glass coffee table, which was undeniably uncomfortable and you were sure you'd be picking glass out your ass for weeks. “And how did you know how to burn the bones?”

“I’m Sam, this is Dean. We’re hunters. We were on the same case, hunting the same vengeful spirit. We were just a few steps behind you,” Sam explained, hands still held up in the air.

“Not that far behind, but yeah. Victoria Lowndes, killed by her husband a year ago and buried under the floorboards – haunting every family that moved in here ever since,” Dean explained, and everything he says checks out. You nodded and lowered your gun when you figured they had to be telling the truth. Plus, it hurt to keep holding up your pistol, considering you could practically see the tendons in your wounded hand.

“Didn’t need any help, but thanks I guess,” you muttered, although you knew the guys had definitely saved your life and you’d be 100% dead had they not gotten to you in time.

Dean scoffed, “Yeah, right. Totally didn’t need any help whatsoever. So, we’ll just be going now then.” He turned to walk out the door and patted Sam on the shoulder on the way past, as if he urged him to follow. He gave Dean a glare as he watched him walk by, towards the front door. You panicked a little, knowing full well that if somebody didn’t help you get up you you’ll probably be stuck in the pool of glass for the rest of your life, or end up hurting yourself even more trying to get out on your own.

“U-uh, wait,” you called back to them, a sense of helplessness twinging in your tone, “I-uh, kinda do need your help getting out of here.”

You heard Dean let out a smug chuckle followed by a ‘typical’ before the two boys returned to the room and worked to lift you carefully from the table. You let out a cry of pain, the adrenaline now wearing off and letting you feel the severity of your injuries, and you realised you could barely walk without support.

“Holy crap, what even _happened_ to you?” Sam asked with great concern in his voice as he looked over your body and noticed more and more puddles of blood soaking your clothes. Your hand was soaking his jacket is you gripped onto his waist, trying to hold yourself up.

“Glass… and more glass. Did I mention glass? This ghost had a thing for glass.”

“Let’s get you to a doct—”

“—no, I’m not going to the ER. Just… just take me somewhere, anywhere. I’ll patch myself up. Just no doctors.”

You’d never been fond of doctors, or hospitals in general. Not since you were a teenager, watching, what seemed like, a million doctors surrounding your parents in their hospital wards and all equally as useless as the next. It was that experience that brought you into the life of hunting – your parents having been the victims of two very sadistic demons who decided it would be fun to possess them and have them play catch the knife with their bodies – and ever since you’d decided that you’d never put your faith in doctors again. Instead, you became your own doctor, fully capable of fixing any injury you'd acquire on a hunt.

“Fine, well, come to our motel. We’re nearby, and we have a first-aid kit we can use to help you get the… the glass out,” Sam explained, slipping his arm around you to give you more support as they started to walk you out of the building.

“Oh, wait,” you said as you stopped, turning to look at your shoulder when you realised you’d forgotten your things, “my shit. I need it. It’s everything I have.”

Dean nodded at Sam and they swiftly readjusted so Sam supported all of your weight while Dean ran back into the house and grabbed all of your things, including your duffel bag, your shotgun and the loose bits and bobs you’d used to kill the spirit.

“That’s my car,” you said, motioning to it as you got outside with Sam, Dean quickly following behind holstering your duffel bag over his shoulder. “Can you drive it to the motel, too?” You looked at Dean, but he was too focused on your car. You had to admit, she was a thing of beauty – a [1969 Ford Mustang](http://static.turbosquid.com/Preview/001217/479/0L/3D-model-mustang-1969_Z.jpg), painted a gorgeous shade of metallic crimson with black leather seats and a newly installed iPhone fixture so you could blast whatever song you wanted on your long car journeys. Fittingly enough, you called her Sally. _Ride, Sally, Ride._

“I just… yeah, I’ll drive your car. Don’t… don’t tell Baby, though. She might get jealous,” Dean spoke as he practically gravitated towards Sally like he was in some sort of trance with her after you’d handed him the keys. You totally got it. You were like that the first time you saw her when she was just a baby, sitting at the very back of a car dealership, dusty, abandoned and written off as being a piece of ‘junk’ just because she squeaked a little when you drove her. While they saw junk, you saw a piece of coal that just needed a little bit of TLC to make her become the diamond that she was today. You worked on her for months, adding finishing touches that truly made her yours, and you'd never looked back since. She was truly a work of art.

“Baby?” you asked, turning your head towards Sam who was watching Dean with an almost shocked expression on his face.

“His car. The black Chevy Impala over there. I’m impressed – he’s never been this fixated on a car since, well, his Baby. It's like he's committing adultery.” He let out a chuckle. You turned your attention to the car when he mentioned it and your jaw almost hit the floor. _Holy f_ … she certainly was impressive. Not as impressive as yours, of course, but definitely a car you could appreciate the beauty of just as much as your own.

As Sam walked you towards the Chevy so he could drive you back to their motel, you saw couldn’t help but get a little excited spotting all of the gorgeous details on the car. You made a mental note to yourself to ask for a ride before you departed ways with the Winchesters.

Sam aided you in getting in the car, every movement shooting pains throughout your body as you settled into the passenger’s seat, but you tried to focus on the car, trying not to bleed on it and ruin the leather seats.

“Damn, what a car,” you commented, running your non-bloody hand over the dashboard in appreciation, enjoying the texture of the interior underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Definitely got a lot of history,” Sam said with a nod, before turning the key to star the car up with a beautiful roar.

“Oh… yeah, Baby, purr little kitty-cat,” you said, biting your bottom lip a little. You’d always loved cars that had a good growl once they came to life. Sally’s growl was pure and simply sexy, and you made sure of that when you fixed her up.

Sam simply shook his head and let out a laugh, “alright, female-Dean, let’s get you fixed up.”

You laughed at his comment, although the laugh was cut short by the pain it triggered up your back. You made a note not to laugh too much until the glass was out of your body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there ya go! hope that was okay! lemme know what you think so far.
> 
> more to come soon! <3


	2. Clean Up Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lovelies! back at it with another chapter! thank you for all the love on the last one - like I said before, I have no idea where this story will go but i'm enjoying writing it so lemme know if you want more!
> 
> enjoy!

You reached the Winchesters’ motel within fifteen minutes of leaving the Lownde’s residence. Sam managed to pull you out of the car, although with great difficulty considering _everything hurt_ and you could barely hold up your own weight, and haul you over to their motel room door. You heard a grumble of engine, instantly recognisable, enter the motel parking lot as you waited for him to unlock the door, and a grin crept over your lips as you watched Dean park Sally carefully next to the Impala. As he exited the car and locked the door behind him, he jogged up to you and Sam with a grin as wide as yours plastered on his face.

“Woo! What a ride,” he exclaimed, excitement clear in his tone. “I want another go already.”

“Well, you can ride Sally if I get to ride your Baby,” you replied, almost suggestively, before shooting Dean a wink.

“Normally I don’t give into chicks that easily… but deal.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” Sam added with a chuckle as he moved to slip his arm around you again to help you get into the motel once the door was open.

“Hey! Shut up,” Dean retorted with a huff. You laughed, before grimacing again. _No laughs, Y/N, no laughs._

Sam guided you over to one of the beds, gently guiding you to sit down before he disappeared to one of the duffel bags sitting in the corner of the room. He pulled out a med-box and brought it to your side, shrugging of his jacket before sitting next to you.

“You don’t need to help me, Sam. I can do it myself,” you insisted, not wanting to bother the brothers after what they’d already done for you.

“You really want to pull that chunk of glass out your back? Can you even reach it?” he asked, perking a brow up questioningly at you.

“Well… I… you got a point.”

Sam gave you a reassuring smile. “That’s what I thought. I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off, ideally. If you don’t mind.”

“Get a room,” you heard Dean yell from the bathroom he’d disappeared into while you were busy with Sam.

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam both replied in perfect sync. You reminded yourself not to laugh. You nodded at his request and started to pull your top layers off, removing the plaid shirt first, hissing at the pain as you did, before starting to pull your tank top up your torso until Sam had to take over. Fortunately, your wound landed just below the bra line, so you were able to keep that on, and you were glad it was one of your prettier bras, although you didn’t particularly care much for that in your current situation – all you cared about was getting the foreign objects out of your body.

“Jesus,” Sam commented as he finally saw the severity of your impalement, “you’re lucky that sucker didn’t hit anything serious, otherwise you’d be totally crippled by now. It’s a pretty big chunk.”

You heard footsteps approaching from behind you. “Ouch, that’s a son-of-a-bitch if I ever did see one,” Dean’s words filled the room before you heard him taking a drink of something.

“Is that booze? Gimme some. Something strong.”

Dean disappeared for a second before returning with a strong bottle of whisky, which you quickly open and chug down a few swigs, grimacing briefly before the frenzy settled on your tongue. You continued to take small sips, hoping it would take the edge off the pain soon.

“Alright,” Sam started after he’d fully looked over your situation, “not gonna lie – this will hurt, but… keep drinking. I’ll try and be as gentle as I can.”

“And remember, if Sam cuts an artery or something else important, _you’re_ the one that didn’t want to go the ER,” Dean added. You rolled your eyes.

“Just do it,” you said, before taking another big swig of whisky.

You feel something splash on your wound and you hiss as the sting of it, although you figure it’s just some sort of alcohol to clean the cut to prevent infection. After that, you feel Sam gently tugging at the glass shard, making you wince in pain. You were used to this; home doctor sessions pulling weird and wonderful things out of your body, but the pain never got any easier to deal with. Although it was nice having someone else do it for you for once.

You could feel the tenderness of Sam’s motions, how careful he was being not to catch any important nerves or veins, but you could still feel yourself tearing up at the sharp pains. Dean obviously noticed this and pulled up a chair in front of you.

“Y’know, I usually ain’t the type to just chat to a chick who’s in her bra, but for you I’ll make an exception,” he said as he shot you a playful wink, obviously trying to distract you from what was happening. You appreciated it and flashed him a smile.

“Well, once I’ve got half of the Lownde’s house out of my body, maybe we can arrange something a little more exciting than talking,” you replied, a half-hearted flirt although you couldn’t muster up anything more than that. Regardless, it seemed to work, causing Dean to perk his brows up curiously, a small smirk creeping onto the corner of his lips before he took another sip of his beer.

“Raincheck,” he said as he pointed a finger at you, the smirk more obvious on his lips which told you he was probably serious about that. “Anyway, what’s your name? Don’t think we caught it yet.”

“My name is— _a-ah_ , fuck,” you hissed at the sharp pain of Sam pulling out the shard in your back.

“Crap, sorry. That’s it out at least, I’ll just clean it up and stitch it. The worst of it is over though,” Sam replied reassuringly as he splashed some more alcohol on your wound before padding it down with a piece of dressing and holding it there for a few seconds.

You turned your attention back to Dean. “Fuck?” he asked, brow raising in a teasing matter, “never heard of that name before.”

“Sure you have. It’s what you moan out whenever you cum, sweetie,” you replied, making Dean almost choke on his beer mid-sip. You heard Sam also let out an amused snort behind you, causing a grin to spread over your lips. “My name is Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N,” Dean spoke, still trying to recover from your previous comment, “how long you been in the life?”

“Since I was about seventeen. When my parents died. They both… got possessed by a couple of demons who played puppet with them and made them stab each other to death. It was… I still can’t forget the image of their eyes… my parents’ eyes; flickering black whenever they… and the puff of smoke once they left. They left with my parents’ lives… and I suddenly had nothing left,” you explained, the memory lighting up in your mind as clear as day. “I became so… _angry_. Vengeful. I hunted those bastards down and made them suffer. It didn’t help.”

“It never does,” Dean agreed with a nod. “Been down that road a million times over. Revenge is never worth it.”

“But… saving people is. That’s the only way I could start to recover from my loss - stopping it happening to other people.”

“We get that,” Sam added from behind. You could feel him starting to stitch your wound back up after he’d finished cleaning it. You hissed at the initial sting of the needle, but it was such a familiar feeling that you settled quickly once he continued with the rest.

“So, you’ve just been on your own ever since?” Dean asked, taking another sip of his beer.

“Yeah, pretty much. Met a few hunters along the way but… we’re pretty antisocial people. Plus, most of them were useless and got in my way.”

Dean let out a chuckle. “Yeah, they can’t all be as great as us.”

You smiled amusedly, giving him a shameless nod. “I usually just get my company from random hook-ups and morning chats with diner waitresses. It’s a simple life. Well, simple except for the hunting, which is… really not simple in the slightest.”

You and Dean continued to make small talk until Sam notified that he had finished with your wound – leaving it fully stitched, dressed and cleaned. It certainly felt a lot better, but the pain was still pretty prominent. You stood up carefully and turned to him, giving him a smile before you lifted your leg onto the bed to reveal a second, admittedly smaller, shard of glass wedged in the back of your calf. Sam’s face dropped.

“And this one?” you said, almost with puppy dog eyes. You’d do it yourself, but the whisky had finally kicked in and you weren’t in any state to sew up your leg.

“Fine,” Sam sighed, “get back onto the bed. And if there’s anything else I need to clean up, tell me _now_.”

You quickly unfastened your jeans and rolled them down, careful now to touch the glass as they passed your injured calf, now fully in your undies. 

“Damn, Sam, you really do know how to make the girls strip today,” Dean commented from the side. Sam’s cheeks flushed slightly but you simply laughed it off before climbing onto the bed, on your front, so Sam had full access to the wound.

You could swear you saw Dean fully watching your ass as you did this from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t mind either way. He could watch if he liked. Hell, it had been a while since you’d had any action whatsoever, so a little attention from a couple of attractive men didn’t bother you one bit.

It was about an hour later when you were finally patched up everywhere you needed to be, including the minor cuts and grazes you received during your twelve rounds with the vengeful spirit. You were pretty banged up overall – with multiple lacerations around your face, arms and torso and you could already feel the bruises forming around your body. But you were alive, so you couldn’t complain.

“So, what’s next for Y/N?” Dean asked as he cracked open a few beers for the three of you, handing one to Sam and then to you, before taking a seat on the bed opposite yours (which was evidently Sam’s but you had now claimed).

“Well, I’m gonna get some rest for a couple of days, then head back out on the road with Sally,” you explained, because in your head that seemed totally logical. You weren’t one to stay somewhere for too long, mainly because you generally didn’t want to get attached to anyone you met.

“Wait, what? No. You’ve just been _impaled_ by glass in multiple parts of your body; you’re at high risk of infection, too. You can’t go back to hunting. You’ll get killed,” Sam quickly replied, a worried tone in his voice as he looked at you like a scolding parent.

“But I do it—”

“—I don’t care if you say you do it all the time. You’re not hunting anything with those wounds. You physically can’t walk without help.”

“Y’know, I’m all for getting back to the good fight as soon as you can, but those are some pretty nasty injuries. Even _I_ wouldn’t jump back into it that quickly, and I’m a tough sonofabitch,” Dean added, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Alright, so let’s say I take some time off. Where am I going to stay? I don’t have a full-time residence _anywhere_ , and motels are expensive.”

You almost wished you hadn’t said anything, because Sam and Dean turned to look at each other with a look that made you worry. They turned back to you and Sam said, “You can stay with us. In our bunker.”

“Bunker? What are you, world war two nerds? Who has a _bunker?”_

“Let’s just say… it’s our legacy. We’ll tell you more when we get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... thoughts? promise things will get more interesting soon! it's a slow start for sure. 
> 
> lemme know if you're enjoying the length of the chapters too? are they too long, too short, just right? 
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	3. House Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thanks for all who've read up 'til this point! i'm really enjoying writing the spn universe again, and hope you're enjoying what i'm writing!
> 
> also, just wanted to let you guys know that i've started a new series (cuz i can't help myself) - another dean/reader fic but a little different, more smutty? if you wanna read that, you can find that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821805/chapters/54541357)! 
> 
> much love! <3

Let’s just say that when the Winchesters told you they had a _bunker_ ; you simply expected a _bunker_. A rusted metal box underground in the middle of nowhere. And sure, that’s what it seemed like on the outside, but on the inside, it was something else. Something you’ve never seen anything like before. A plethora of unlimited knowledge at the tip of your fingers, more space than you could ask for and a _kitchen_. A kitchen, of all things! Plus, a spare room which they made up for you as soon as they arrived, complete with your own bed _and_ wardrobe. Better than any motel could offer.

“Jesus… how—how did you say you got this place again?” you asked a little bewilderedly after returning from dropping your stuff off in your room. You walked back with the boys to the main room, which had a large table topped with a huge map, with ceilings taller than you’d ever seen before, surrounded by books. It was like they had their own private library.

“Like I said earlier, we’re legacies. Our family was part of a secret society called the Men of Letters. Kinda like hunters, except they don’t actually hunt anything, they just read about it,” Dean explained as he helped you settle in one of the chairs around the large table.

“Men of Letters? I thought they died out aeons ago,” you replied, a little confused. You’d definitely heard of them, not in much detail, but enough to know they were something that existed before you were even born. “Does that mean you two are Men of Letters?”

“Kinda. Not really. There’s a few of them still kicking around, most of them are dicks… but yeah, we’re the last of them,” Dean replied.

“Interesting. And all of this… this is _all_ yours? Nobody knows of it but you?”

“Well, there’s note of the place in the Men of Letters archives, but other than that, we’re pretty safe from intruders. The place is warded and alarmed up to the gills,” Sam chimed as he stepped into the room.

“Damn… that’s pretty sweet.”

“It’s our home, has been for a few years now,” Dean said with a nod, before changing the subject onto something more interesting. “So, are you hungry? You haven’t eaten much since last night. If anything. Except whisky, which I can appreciate, but your body sure won’t when it’s trying to heal those nasty wounds.”

You let out a small laugh, still sore from your wounds, although the painkillers Sam gave you to take the edge of had certainly done the trick. You were a whole lot of numb all over, and it felt good.

“Yeah, I could eat. But… none of that crappy healthy stuff. I don’t do leaves,” you said, the craving of a burger suddenly hitting you now that you were mentioning food.

“I like your style, sweetheart,” Dean replied with a grin, starting to walk out the room to where, you assumed, the kitchen would be, patting Sam’s arm on the way out and saying, “See, Sammy, not everyone eats like a rabbit like you do. I like this chick.”

Sam shook his head and you could see the obvious eye-roll. You let out another small chuckle. The brothers were certainly entertaining, alright.

* * *

Dean had disappeared into the kitchen for about a half hour or so before returning to you with a huge plate of burger and fries. You had to admit – you were certainly impressed. You’d never pegged Dean to be the type to be able to cook, considering they’d spent most of their lives on the road.

“Oh my God…” you moaned in delight, mayonnaise and burger grease dripping from your lips after you took your first bite, “ _Dean_ , where did you learn to cook like this?”

Dean chuckled at your reaction, an amused grin on his face as he held his own burger between his hands. “Well, let’s just say, when it was just me and Sammy on the road when we were kids, I was in charge of the food. Dad left us for weeks at a time, so I had to learn quickly. Wasn’t always burgers and fries then – mostly just mac ’n’ cheese or rice and beans, but it was something,” he explained, giving Sam a glance across the table, who was busy picking away at his salad. “And when we got this place, I decided to cook all the stuff I never could when we were younger. Burgers, soup, pie… anything we wanted.”

“And thank God for that. I couldn’t live on macaroni any longer,” Sam added with a teasing tone, causing Dean to shoot a mocking look his way.

“Well, I’m impressed. This is probably the best burger I’ve ever had, although the pain meds may have an influence on that considering a good portion of my body is numb,” you replied with half a bite of food still in your mouth.

“At least someone appreciates my cooking then,” Dean said, again; shooting Sam another mocking look with faux offence to his last comment. You just laughed, and the three of you fell silent as you focused on your food.

After dinner was finished, you offered to help clean up but both brothers refused and denied you any access to the kitchen. _You need to rest_ , they said, _you can clean up when you’re healed._ You just rolled your eyes at them and decided to take a look around the rest of the bunker.

You limped as you walked, but there wasn’t too much pain as you moved (courtesy of the meds) so you got around pretty quickly. You discovered Sam’s room, which was down the hall from yours, and Dean’s which was directly opposite yours. Then there were a few supply closets, some full with boxes packed to the brim with files and archives of things you were a little nervous to even look at, and made a mental note to yourself that you would ask the boys if there was anything interesting in them. Then you made your way to another room, which instantly took you aback when you saw it because you knew _exactly_ what it was. You knew it was supposed to be hidden by the initial set up of the room – shelving units strategically built into a perimeter that guarded the entrance… but the Winchesters obviously weren’t expecting company when they returned home and left their freakin’ _dungeon_ unlocked. The entrance between the shelves exposed a chair, situated in the middle of a warded devil’s trap in the middle of an open room. As you approached slowly, cautiously, you noticed the chair had straps attached to the arms and legs, engraved with warding sigils which you could only assume could hold just about anything.

As you continued to look around the room, you heard footsteps behind you, and you spun around to see who it was.

“Woah there, you okay?” Sam asked as he held his hands up defensively, the same way he’d done when you’d first met in the Lownde’s house, except you weren’t holding a gun to him this time. He probably thought you were scary enough as it was.

“What… what is this? You have a… a _dungeon?_ Should I be worried?” you asked, a little on edge at the whole situation, having never met anyone, not even a hunter, that had their own dungeon. Sam and Dean were still strangers, and while they had helped you out so far, your hunter instinct kept you sharp and alert to anyone trying to trick you. You could never be too careful in this line of work.

Sam let out a chuckle as he let his hands fall to his sides. “Well, yeah… it’s a little crazy, but it was here when we moved in. It’s actually… become handier more often than not. If we need to interrogate anyone – demons, angels, whatever – then we bring them here. The warding on the restraints are pretty strong, Men of Letters stuff. It looks pretty intense but it’s a good thing to have in our arsenal.”

Sam’s words put you at ease about the whole situation. You could tell just by the way he spoke that he was a genuinely nice guy, real focused and logical about the job, and you knew you could trust him. “Right. Yeah… I get it. Well, maybe you should lock it next time you go out. Never know when you’re bringing home company,” you joked.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, right. Although we don’t really have that many people in the bunker too often. Consider yourself lucky.”

You laughed as you walked out of the dungeon with Sam, spotting Dean walking down the hall towards, a beer bottle in his grasp as he grinned at the two of you. “I see you’ve found the dungeon then,” he said, before taking a sip of his beer.

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s… something else,” you said with an amused grin.

“Always handy having somewhere to tie people up. Even humans, although that kind of bondage is usually fun.”

“And that’s my cue to get out of here,” Sam spoke as he scrunched his face up uncomfortably and walked past Dean, disappearing into his room.

“Well, I for one, can get behind _that_ kind of torture,” you replied to Dean once Sam left, and a smirk crept onto Dean’s lips as you did.

“Then you and I will get on _swimmingly_ then, sweetheart,” he said with a wink. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

You nodded with a laugh and followed him as he started a tour around the bunker. It was a lot bigger than you thought it, deceivingly so as you realised you’d been walking around the place for a good twenty minutes and still hadn’t seen everything, and your body was starting to ache as the painkillers began to wear off.

“Are we nearly done? My back is starting to burn – think I need some more of those pills Sam gave me earlier,” you mentioned as you pressed your hand against the back of your hip, rubbing gently to ease the painful sensations shooting up your spine.

“This is the last place,” Dean spoke as you stopped at a large door. He pulled it open to reveal a huge warehouse-like room, filled with vintage cars and motorbikes. Your mouth fell agape, any comprehendible thought escaping your head as you stared in awe at the sight before you. You’d always been a bit of a grease monkey – your dad was a mechanic, after all, and a large part of your fondest memories was helping him at his shop, fixing up broken down cars and building them into fantastic machines. Seeing all these old, magnificent cars, still wonderfully preserved from, what you assumed was, years of sitting dormant in this garage, gave you that same excitement you used to feel as a kid.

“This is the longest period of time where you’ve not spoken… I’m guessing that’s a good thing,” Dean teased as he walked you up the length of the garage, allowing you to take in each individual car, your hands grazing along the front of them and appreciating the paintwork on each of them. You noticed they were also dust-free, surprisingly, although you guessed if Dean was as much of a car-nerd as you were that he probably took care of them. You certainly would.

“I-I… I don’t know what to say, really. These cars… they’re magnificent,” you uttered, eyes still pinned to each model that you passed. “And they’re all yours and Sam’s?”

“Technically, yeah. Most of their original owners are dead, so yeah. Ours.”

“Wow, that’s… awesome.”

“When you’re better, I can show you what’s on the inside of them too. I assume a gal like yourself who has a car as sweet as ol’ Sally out there likes to tinker?”

“Of course. I literally found Sally when she could barely move a yard without breaking down and puffing out smoke… I love to fiddle around with their insides, see what makes them tick,” you explained, shooting Dean a wink as he watched you talk. There was a look in his eyes which you could only explain as… impressed? His pupils were dilated, as if he liked what he saw when he looked at you, and you couldn’t help but blush a little under his gaze.

“It’s super sexy when a woman knows cars…” he said, and again, the skin of your cheeks become heated as you flushed a bright pink colour. _Stop blushing, Y/N, you don’t blush. Get a grip of yourself, woman._

“And it’s equally as sexy when a man knows their cars, too,” you replied, almost unashamedly flirting back at Dean. He smirked at you, letting out a breath through his nose in amusement. The two of you looked at each other, holding your gaze with one another for a little too long, before you both broke away simultaneously, clearing your throats and separating a little when you realised how close you’d be standing to each other.

“We should, uh… get back. You need your meds, right? I’m sure Sammy left them in the main room,” Dean said as he started to lead you out of the garage. Your cheeks were _burning_ , flushing crimson as you followed Dean back to the main part of the bunker. You spotted your meds on the map table, sitting next to a freshly poured glass of water. You smiled – Sam must have set it out of you before he headed to bed.

You popped a couple of pills with the water, grimacing as they left a disgusting taste in your mouth, and Dean laughed at you as he spotted your facial expression. “Don’t like pills, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Ew, no. Never. Hate ‘em, but… I don’t have much choice. They make me feel good, and I can deal with two seconds of discomfort for four hours of blissful numbness,” you replied, taking another sip of water to help guide the pills down to your stomach.

“Fair enough. I usually find that a shot full of whisky helps the meds go down easier, though.”

“Alright, Mary Poppins, I’ll try that next time. Although I can’t imagine that’s healthy.”

Dean shrugged. “You’re not healthy anyway. Half your back is missing and you’re relying on pills to keep you standing up straight.”

“Touché, Winchester. Touché.”

The two of you laughed it off before you decided to hit the hay. You said your goodnights to Dean before finding your way back to your room. _Your room_ – it wasn’t often you got to call something your own, and even though you knew this wouldn’t be a permanent residence and you’d be leaving once you were healed up, it was nice to know you had somewhere to rest for the foreseeable future without having to deal with sleazy motels which costed a fortune to stay in. Plus, you could, for once in your life, unpack your clothes into a _wardrobe_ , and not have to live out of a duffel bag, and that to you was luxury at its finest.

You fixed your bed how you liked it and changed into a pair of PJ shorts and a tank top before climbing under the blankets in bed. You let out a contented sigh as your body relaxed into the cosy and comfortable mattress, embracing one of the rare times you were able to truly relax knowing you were 100% safe from the outside world. And with that thought in mind, you fell asleep in no time, your mind and body truly at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! lemme know what you think <3
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://neeeeeeeeep.tumblr.com/), too, if you want!


	4. Netflix & Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in updates! i'm suffering through a horrible 8-day work week and finding it hard to function after work. hopefully a 'lil smut will make up for it! ;)
> 
> enjoy!

You woke up at the crack of dawn. Your body ached as you realised the drugs were now out of your system since you’d slept for so long and you were running dry of any pain relief. You didn’t want to get up, but you also couldn’t stand to stay in bed while your body seized in pain whenever it moved. So, you decided to get up – or at least _try_ to get up, which was a lot more difficult than you thought it would be.

You got as far as planting your feet on the ground before you realised you may have needed some assistance when it came to actually standing up on your own. You hated this – having to rely on pain relief to have _any_ control of your body. You begrudgingly mumbled about the Lowndes ghost as you tried to push yourself onto your feet.

You managed it – barely – but the tricky part was to now gain some momentum and strength when it came to putting one foot in front of the other and actually _walking_. Your leg burned, the wound on it not as severe as the one on your back but definitely painful enough to inhibit any weight you could put on it. Nevertheless, you pushed forward, breathing through the pain so you could at least get the door and hold onto the handle for support. When you made it there, you pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway.

It was just at that point that the door opposite yours swung open and Dean, clad in only PJ bottoms that seemed to hug him a little too tight in _certain_ areas along with a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, stepped out, sleepily rubbing his eyes before he stopped in his tracks as he noticed you standing opposite him.

“Y/N?” he asked, brows furrowing in concern. “You okay? You need a hand?”

His eyes scanned your body swiftly, spotting the uncomfortable way you’re holding yourself as you try not to put to much weight onto the sorer spots of your body, but it was clear that you needed help getting any further in your journey to your pills. “I-uh… yeah. Just… wanted to go take some more meds. Forgot to take them to my room last night before bed. Won’t do that ever again – I can barely breathe without something hurting.”

Dean let out a groggy chuckle, his voice audibly deeper and huskier as it was clear he’d just woken up. He stepped forward and slipped an arm around your back, his hand securing around your waist as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder for leverage. “Next time, just… I don’t know, shout on us. Or text me. I’ll bring your meds through for you.”

“That would be _too_ easy, Winchester. I like to challenge myself. Plus, I don’t even have your number… yet.”

Dean, again, let out another chuckle. “Well, I’ll be sure to change that soon enough, but for now; let’s get you your meds.” He guided you through to the kitchen where he let you take a seat at the dining table. He then disappeared to grab your pills and a fresh glass of water, placing them in front of you as he returned.

“What, no whiskey?” you ask, referring back to your conversation the previous night, a playful tone to your voice.

“Figured not everyone likes whiskey for breakfast like I do.”

“Well, Winchester, I’m not _everyone,_ but this’ll do for now.”

He smirked amusedly, before you took the pills anyway with water. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

At that point, Sam walked through the kitchen door, fully dressed, like he’d been up for hours.

“Morning, Sammy,” you said with a smile. “Good sleep?”

“Uh, yeah. Fine. Morning,” he replied, heading to the fridge to pour himself a glass of OJ. “How’d you sleep? How’s the back?”

“Honestly, I slept like a _baby_. Never had such a comfy bed before.”

The boys smiled at your response. “That’s good then. I’ll check on your wounds in a bit, after breakfast, which I’m about to go get if anyone wants anything?”

Suddenly, your stomach rumbled, making you realise how hungry you were. “Pancakes! With a side of bacon and maple syrup. Oh, and a side of eggs! And toast. Mm… God, I’m _starving_.”

The boys looked at you with surprised expressions on their faces. Dean then turned to Sam and grinned, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

Sam rolled his eyes before letting out a chuckle. “Fine, I’ll be back in a bit. Text me if you need anything else picked up.”

Sam started to head to the door before you suddenly realise something you’ve missed. “Oh, Sam! Wait!” Sam returned to the room, poking his head in questioningly. “Pie, too, please! Apple, preferably.”

Sam’s brows raised as his eyes flicked over to Dean, who almost looked taken aback by your words.

“What?” you asked. “Can’t have a good meal without finishing it off with pie.” You shrugged, assuming everyone was as much as a glutton as you were. Sam laughed again before he disappeared, finally leaving the bunker moments later.

Dean continued to look at you, watching your facial expressions, as if he was trying to figure something out. You spotted this almost immediately, the awkward silence catching your attention after Sam had left.

“What?” you asked, looking at Dean with raised brows.

“Nothing. You just… remind me of someone, that’s all.”

“Well, that person must be awesome if I remind you of them,” you joked. Dean gave you a smile, before heading over to the kitchen counter tops to brew himself a fresh pot of coffee.

“You want some?” he offered as he poured himself a cup.

“Of course. Black, please.”

Dean, again, paused to look at you like you’d just said something strange. “Me, too.”

“What other way would you need coffee? Its sole purpose is to wake you up, and that shit ain’t gon’ happen if it’s watered down with milk.”

“Exactly,” Dean agreed as he poured you a cup and brought them over to the dining table.

The two of you chatted for a bit, more so as your pain meds started to kick in and ease some of your pain. About a half hour he’d left, Sam returned with breakfast. The three of you sat down and ate together, which was a nice experience in its own – you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a meal with _anyone_ , let alone in a building you could consider home for a short while, _and_ with people you were comfortable around. You were quite contented for the first time in, well, years, and a part of you wished it could be a long-term thing, you living with the Winchesters, but you knew deep down that that would be unrealistic. You had to move on eventually.

You leaned back, your hands cradling your bloated stomach after you finished your last bite of breakfast. “Oh my God, that was amazing,” you moaned, rubbing your food-baby to ease the discomfort but equally appreciating the feeling of being full. You never ate much on the road, always too poor to splash out on proper meals every day, or you were to preoccupied on a case to even stop for food. So, when you could finally sit down to a proper meal, you always appreciated it more than your average person.

“So good,” Dean replied, looking equally as stuffed as he mimicked your actions and rubbed his stomach. “You shoulda had the same as us, Sammy. Can’t see you getting much satisfaction out of that avocado crap.”

“It’s good for you, Dean, and mine is pretty delicious, too,” Sam defended, although as you looked down his food, avocado with eggs on toast, you didn’t see the appeal. But it was his choice, and you weren’t one to judge people’s choices if it made them happy.

“Leave your brother alone, Dean. He can eat whatever he wants. He paid for it.”

“Thank you, Y/N. See, Dean? You don’t have to be a dick about everything I do.”

“Hey, that’s not true. I’m only a dick about maybe… half of what you do? Otherwise I’m a totally great guy to you.”

Sam rolled his eyes before he stood up and gathered up the dirty plates. You went to follow him, to help him clean up, but before you could even get out of your seat, Dean reached over and stopped you with his hand. “No, Y/N, you’re still injured. Plus, you’re our guest. No cleaning.”

You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, Dean, I’m staying with you guys, using one of your rooms, using your water, eating your meals… I need to pay some dues.”

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. Honestly, we’re happy that you’re here,” Sam reassured as he glanced over his shoulder as he washed the dishes.

“I swear, once I’m all fixed up, you won’t be able to _stop_ me helping around here. And that’s a promise.”

The boys laughed at your stubborn attitude, but you made a promise to yourself that you would make up for the lack of help when you were healthy enough to do so. But, for now, you accepted their hospitality. It was nice, for once, not having to clean up after yourself.

* * *

Once the boys had finished tidying the kitchen, you weren’t really sure what the plan was after that. If you were on the road, you’d be looking for cases, but you had a feeling the boys weren’t going to let you go near a case even if you begged them for it. Everyone seemed to separate and do their own thing, and so you had to figure out what you were going to do to fill all your sudden free time.

“You guys got anywhere I can watch movies?” you asked curiously as you walked into map room.

“Uh, yeah, next to my room. There’s a couch and a tv in there. We don’t use it much, but there’s a few movies in there. Dean also has some in his room,” Sam replied, looking up from his laptop. You nodded at his answer, before turning to look for this mysterious tv room.

On the way there, you stopped – may as well ask Dean what movies he has since you had to pass his room anyway. You chapped on the door with your knuckles, until you heard Dean call out for you to come in. You opened the door and saw him laying in bed, pjs still on and a pair of headphones cupping his ears, which he removed when you stepped in.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked as he raised his brows, looking at you as you entered.

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you had any good movies to watch? Sam said you had a few.”

“Oh yeah, I got some good’uns.” He moved to hop off his bed, walking over to a shelf at the side of his room. “You like horror?”

“I _love_ horror. But none of that sappy paranormal crap. Gimme the gory stuff.”

A grin spread cheek to cheek across Dean’s face, and he flicked through his DVD collection, picking out the goriest and best movies he could find, including a few All Saints Day discs and other classics he deemed respectable enough for you. “These ones are pretty awesome. C’mon, I’ll help you set up.”

You nodded as you followed him to a room you must have skipped during your house tour, and he opened the door to reveal an old looking couch, set up to face a large flat screen TV, hooked up to a DVD player which looked like it had been well used over the years. It was awesome, like their own private theatre.

“So, we’ve got All Saints Day one, two and three. I figured if you picked one, you’d have to watch the rest of them anyway. And we also have House of 1000 Corpses, along with its respected sequels, too, and other classics like Jason, Freddy, Myers. Your choice, sweetheart,” Dean spoke as he laid them out on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Ooh, I haven’t seen House of 1000 Corpses in years! I’ll take that one.”

Dean looked a little disappointed that you didn’t pick All Saints Day, which he had been heavily hinting at, but he nodded. “Respectable, and a total high-tier slasher.”

You grinned at Dean’s words. God, he was such a movie nerd. You’d never have thought he’d have this kind of side to him, not with the tough-guy exterior he always seemed to display. But it was nice to see him genuinely interested in something other than hunting, and you knew the two of you could bond over this.

Dean set up the movie and shut off the lights, only sitting down after he’d quickly ran to the kitchen to grab a few beers and snacks, including popcorn and chips. He also grabbed a couple of blankets since the room tended to get cold when you were just sitting in the one place for so long, or so he claimed. You grinned excitedly when he returned and sat next to you with all the goodies he’d brought back.

After getting comfortable with your blankets and taking control of the popcorn bag, Dean hit play. You hadn’t expected him to join you, but you certainly weren’t complaining either.

[As the movie started, you were met with a familiar clown figure, a fan favourite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZVQB9RAZ84). “Dude, Captain Spaulding is such a legend. I remember when Sammy and I first watched this when we were kids – preteens, really – and Sammy _hated_ the guy, just because he looked like a clown. It was hilarious.”

You laughed, remembering the boys having mentioned Sam’s odd phobia of clowns in a passing conversation, and you found it amusing that someone who literally faced nightmares on a daily basis could still be scared of something so harmless. You made a mental note to tease Sam about it later.

You continued throwing popcorn into your mouth, mindlessly watching the movie, relaxing next to Dean as the two of you relaxed together. It was nice, just hanging out. Watching _other_ people have to face the bad guys for once instead of it being you. And the company wasn’t half bad either, Dean chiming in with hilarious comments, egging on the killers in the movie since, really, they were the ones the movie made you root for.

About half way through the movie, you started to fidget, your back getting a little sore from the way you were pressing against the couch, and so you moved so your lower back was resting against the armrest as you rested your legs over Dean’s lap, taking the pressure off your upper back injury.

“Hey,” he protested, “I ain’t no footrest.”

“My back hurts,” you replied with a pout, “you really gonna make me move now that I’ve _finally_ gotten comfortable?”

Dean shot you a glare, but he allowed you to remain on him. “Fine, but no funny business, alright?”

Perking your brows up, you asked coyly, “Whatever do you mean, Dean?”

“Y’know, some chicks get a little… y’know, rowdy.”

“I find it hard to believe you would have an issue with any chick getting rowdy around you, Dean.”

“Hey, that’s… well, not _entirely_ true.”

You laughed. “Lies.”

“It is not!”

“So, you’re saying, if I got ‘rowdy’ with you right now, you would say no?”

Dean paused as he looked at you, a mixture of expressions on his face which told you what you the answer to that already. But Dean was stubborn. “Obviously. I’m not just someone you can manipulate _that_ easily.”

“Oh, really? So, if I did this…” you spoke, slowly running your foot from the opposite armrest it had been resting on, to Dean’s lap, rubbing his thigh gently, “…you would have an issue it?”

You could see Dean tense up, swallowing hard as he braced himself under your touch. Yet, he didn’t flinch away or immediately move you. Instead, he chewed on his bottom lip, and that motion alone told you everything you needed to know. You had a cunning look in your eyes, but as you continued to touch Dean you couldn’t help but get a little turned on at his reactions.

“I-uh… well…” Dean tried to answer, but no coherent response was able to escape his lips. He turned to look at you and as he noticed the look in your eyes, his narrowed at you. “You’re cruel.”

“Why, Dean? I’m not doing anything.”

As you said this, your big toe grazed the bulge on Dean’s lap, which caused his breath to catch in the back of his throat. He swallowed again, shifting as he tried to control himself, but you could feel the bulge growing as you grazed over it again.

“I don’t think I’m that cruel, Dean. You seem to be responding pretty well to the situation.”

You pressed your foot a little harder against Dean’s bulge, feeling the outline of his growing erection through the cotton of his pyjama bottoms and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, licking your lips as his body’s response to your touch got you going a lot more than you had expected. You had totally forgotten about the movie playing in the background now, a new form of entertainment, Dean, being your main focus now.

You pressed your toes against the outline of Dean’s shaft, curling them around it gently but with purpose. He let out a low growl as you began to rub your foot up and down, slowly, teasingly, knowing the little touch he was getting was enough to turn him on, but not enough to relieve him. Dean looked up to watch your face, meeting his gaze with your own, shooting him a smirk as his eyes filled with lust. There was so much tension in the air, like at any moment the two of you were about to jump each other and go to town. But, as much as you wouldn’t mind that right now, you actually preferred the teasing.

But you knew it could only stay one-sided for so long. You soon felt Dean’s hand running up your bare leg, to your inner thigh, hitting the rim of your pyjama shorts. His fingers slipped under them, tracing the hem of your panties which caused your breath to catch in your throat, your heartbeat pounding in your chest. It had been a _long_ time since you’d had this kind of physical connection with someone and, having Dean’s hands on you sent a rush of shivers through your body, causing your skin to prickle with goose bumps. He smirked as he felt them under his fingertips, knowing that he was pulling the same reaction from you as he did for you.

He was fully hard under your toes now, your socks and his pyjamas the only thing separating your skin from touching his bare cock, and you suddenly had the urge to give into your desires and take things further. But, you knew that wasn’t the best idea, considering you could barely _walk_ without help, never mind sleep with someone. Besides, you were sure Sam was in the room next to you, and you didn’t want to make things awkward.

But… you felt Dean’s fingers start to trace your core with his fingers over your panties, smirking as he felt the prominent wet patch soaking through the material. You bit your bottom lip as his fingertips grazed over your clit through the cotton, and you tried your hardest not to let the threatening moan escape your lips. You swallowed it back, taking a deep yet shaky breath to try and steady yourself.

“Hm… what’s happening, sweetheart? Happy enough to dish it out, but can’t handle it when it’s returned?” Dean purred with a cocky smirk toying on his plump lips, which you so desperately wanted to taste.

You shot him a glare, before pressing the base of your foot against his hard cock, starting to rub him more vigorously, more stimulatingly, knowing if he was distracted with his own pleasure that he’d maybe ease off of yours. It worked, for a moment or two; taking a second to buck into your touch and let out another low growl from the back of his throat, before he regained his focus and, without warning, slipped his fingers under your panties, making you gasp at the sudden skin on skin contact, his fingers expertly finding your wet clit and beginning to rub it in a circular motion.

You couldn’t hold back your moans anymore. Your head lulled back, his fingers shooting pleasure through your body and it felt _amazing._ You’d missed it – having someone get you off instead of your lonely self, and it felt _so_ much better, too. Your body was on fire, your cunt lapping up the bliss his simple motions were creating, so much that you could already feel yourself getting close.

You tried to keep your moans quiet, but it was increasingly difficult as your climax continued to build, Dean realising this quickly but refusing to let you breathe. Your hand gripped the armrest of the couch, your other squeezing the blanket within its grasp as your breathing became ragged and heavy. You were so close; _so_ close it would only take a few more motions until you hit your big O, but just as you’re about to, you hear a knock on the door, followed by Sam poking his head into the room.

You and Dean don’t say a word, but in the 0.2 seconds you have before you’re caught, you regain your composures, sit up and pretend that you hadn’t just been fondling each other instead of watching the movie, which you’d only noticed was rolling credits when you tried to pretend that you’d been watching it when Sam entered the room.

“U-uh… sorry to interrupt,” Sam spoke, clearing his throat awkwardly, sensing the tension in the room almost immediately, “but I just wanted to remind Y/N that we need to check her wounds and clean them.”

You swallowed, _hard_ , trying to regain control of your body and your words. “Right,” you squeaked, your face flushing pink as your voice cracked. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Right, Sam. I’ll be right out. The movie just finished anyway.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll go get the stuff ready. I picked you up some new bandages while I was out for breakfast this morning.”

You flashed Sam an unstable smile. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll be right there.”

Sam disappeared out of the room, and you waited until his footsteps became more distant before you looked over at Dean and glared. “Dick.”

Dean smirked. “Bitch.”

You glanced down, noticing the still-prominent bulge under the blankets on Dean’s side, which he’d obviously hid pretty well when his brother had interrupted, and you smirked. “Nice boner, nerd.”

“Nice wet pussy, dork.”

You shot him another glare, before throwing the blankets off you and pulling yourself off the couch, masking how painful the manoeuvre was to prove a point of your annoyance at Dean’s attitude. You tried to turn and say something to him, but you drew a complete blank. This wasn’t like you at all. _You_ always had the last word, not smirky, cocky, stupidly _hot_ men like Dean Winchester. You were frustrated that he’d gotten the better of you, easily taken your teasing and totally turned it round on your horny ass. And you were even more frustrated by how _good_ it felt having him touch you like that. You shook your head before letting out a huffed sigh, walking – or more like limping – out of the room and towards the direction of Sam. You could hear Dean’s cocky chuckle as you left the room. _Dick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dean's a dick. but that's why we love him, right?
> 
> thanks for reading so far! your comments and kudos mean a lot to me and i appreciate everyone who supports the story so far! more to come soon <3
> 
> my other current dean/reader fic: [two worlds apart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821805/chapters/54541357)!  
> follow me on [tumblr](https://neeeeeeeeep.tumblr.com/)!


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